


toucher

by devlinskaya



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29355882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devlinskaya/pseuds/devlinskaya
Summary: — When people touch me, I feel burns appear on my skin. But your burns are different. They are ruthless, but I want them to cover my whole body.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [toucher](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/759117) by девлинская. 



— You did a great job, Donghyuck.

For Donchyuck who tried to cover up one pain for another, it was a real mockery. He can't understand how the man in front of him doesn't see — or doesn't want to see — the bloody furrows left by the overgrown fingernails on his palms. He has enough strength to smile, crookedly and obliquely, and bend the head closer to his shoulder.

— I didn't do anything special.

There is an oppressive odor of medicaments in the cabinet, which Donghyuck’d like to get used to during endless visits to a therapist — and which he never could. The cabinet seemed cozy and comfortable but smells brought Donghyuck back to the realization that he is in a psychiatric center and that he, wrong and broken, will be haunted by this smell even in his own flat. In the only stronghold of safety.

The man shakes his head, disagreeing with his words.

— You've done a lot of work in a few months that patients don't usually do in a few years. — He's looking at the red marks on Hyuck's palms. — We need to teach you not to hurt yourself just to avoid panic. Is it your last psychotherapist who asked you to resort to physical pain only to steering clear of panic attacks?

— My own self, — admits Donghyuck, rising from his chair. The man follows him up. — I thought I could stay on the surface that way.

— Did it bring any results?

Donghyuck freezes. No, he wants to say. Nothing worked. Every time he was touched, Donghyuck was burned in the fire, and the skin was burned so much that it lost all nerve endings. He thought that after these fires, he shouldn't feel anything. Instead of it, uncontrolled, invisible fire covers the whole body every time.

The man is smiling.

— Let's leave this question unanswered, — he asks softly. — Think about moving on to the next step tonight.

— The next step?

Donghyuck gave six months to just get used to the idea of touch. Next, it’s...he can't. He feels that his breath is getting lost just because of the idea of touching. Even if only to the hands. To the wrists, forearms, or palms. This still causes difficulties. Which Donghyuck had only learned to deal with mentally.

— Under my careful guidance, you will touch a person…

— No… — he interrupts sharply, exhaling all the air out of his lungs in one breath.

— Why not? I think you're ready.

Donghyuck looks around the cabinet instead of an answer. He doesn't feel safe here. Everywhere, but not in his flat. No matter how good the standing opposite therapist may be, Donghyuck doesn't trust him. The mere idea that he would make Donghyuck touch a stranger, plunges into cold horror. His fingertips are numb with chilling fear.

— You said there is a person who you want to touch, didn't you?

Donghyuck remember. It was the first thing he said to the therapist, just because that person was the reason for another visit to the specialist.

— You've never tried it before?

— I was afraid that I’d panic, — says Donghyuck — He is aware of my peculiarities, and he's very sensitive to my condition. It scares me to think that I might perceive him as a danger or...an abomination. I've never tried it, but I'd like to.

— Why don't you do it? I'm sure you could have done it even without me.

Donghyuck looks him straight in the eye. The therapist understands him better than Donghyuck understands himself — which is why he suggests that this terrible ordeal shouldn't be carried out in the walls of a tiny office under his watchful gaze. Allows him to do it himself. It's very important for Donghyuck to be able to control his own body — otherwise, he will live his whole life with someone else's help.

— Goodbye, — he says. The man never comes to see him off. Instead of the usual goodbye, he looks at him over the top of his glasses and smiles enigmatically.

— Good luck.

***

Mark worked without breaks and, maybe, without weekends. Donghyuck could come to the cafe any day, at any time of the day, and invariably find his friend at the counter, polishing the wood until it shone. At such times, he was so focused that there was a shallow crease between his dark brows. Donghyuck once found himself thinking that he’d like to smooth it out by touching it with his thumb, and then it made him freeze. For the first time, he felt this sharp desire in himself — and which was immediately suppressed by his own body.

— Hi.

Mark changes the masks before he throws his head up, and Donghyuck tries to follow the change every time but fails again and again. He only sees that great difference between exhaustion and affection.

— Hi, — he says softly while his hands reaching for the coffee machine behind him. —The usual?

Donghyuck just nods after Mark turns the back.

— How are you? — he asks while performs still incomprehensible actions. Donghyuck takes a pause too long until Mark puts a cup of coffee in front of him. — Wait, vanilla syrup.

He never tries to touch him. Always remembers that. He still forgot at first, but that was years ago. Now it is so ingrained in the subcortex that in a year Donghyuck stopped to notice any sudden movements, simply because there was no more. Mark didn't raise his hand to brush the fallen lush from his cheek, nor did he pull away. Instead, he just shows on himself.

— Here, — he says, as usual, pointing to the edge of his eye. — An eyelash.

Mark was here for him when Donghyuck, again and again, caught himself thinking of being an ordinary man, accustomed to touch, and was he here when Donghyuck was beside himself with mere fear again feel the burns all over his body.

— So how are you? — he leans on the counter between them, but still keeps his distance. He even knows how much space Donghyuck needs to keep his breathing steady. But it still gets out of hand. Mark makes his heart flutter even from a distance. — How was your meeting with the therapist yesterday? You didn't say anything in your messages.

— As usual, — he replies, while he forgets himself from fear, but not from the fear of being touched. — We again imagined situations in which I might be touched and tried to suppress the panic.

— Is everything all right? You're always so exhausted after these sessions. - There's worrying in Mark's voice. Donghyuck lucky to have him — Mark is not one of those people who will be comforting by the touches. With other people, he behaved exactly the same as with Donghyuck — he never pries. Perhaps that was the reason for them to stay close — Mark just doesn't need to be touched. He doesn't feel the tactile hunger that others were used to.

— He offered to move me to the new step.

The bell over the door tinkled, and Mark turned his full attention to the visitor who had entered. Donghyuck took a few sips from his cup, watching as Mark refilled the coffee and cut a slice of pie for the old man in the long coat. Only when the bell rang behind him again, Donghyuck looked into Mark's eyes.

— A new step? — he asked as if there was no pause in their conversation. He continued before Donghyuck nodded in agreement. —Something like... thinking about situations where you can't escape being touched?

— No, we've already worked on that. 

— Oh…

Mark fluttered his eyelashes excitedly. If Donghyuck hadn't been like that, Mark would have touched his hands on the counter, maybe his face, running his fingers gently over his cheeks, and approached as if Donghyuck didn't have a hundred walls built around him, and looked into his eyes, trying to find out the truth.

— He offered me to touch somebody.

— Are you sure you'll be okay? — he asked the first thing that came to mind. Then, of course, he slapped his forehead. — Sorry…

He knows that, too. That Donghyuck hates to feel weak or helpless. He wasn't as used to the idea as he was to the ban on touching. But he went through with it, failing in questions sometimes.

— If you feel capable of doing that, I'm really glad for you, Donghyuck, — he continued. – Really. It will be amazing! You're incredibly strong, Donghyuck, I'm proud of you!

Donghyuck will be proud of himself only at the moment when completely getting rid of this fear corroding from the inside.

— You're going to touch... him? — he asked cautiously, lowering his worried gaze back to the polished counter as if searching for flaws in the perfectly smooth surface. Surprisingly, he’d never found these flaws in Donghyuck sitting in front.

— I'm afraid when I imagine touching someone who's almost a stranger to me, so I'd like it to be you, Mark. If you want to, of course.

Donghyuck didn't have to touch his neck, to know that in his veins the crazy beating heart.

He'd never seen Mark becoming... like this before. More like a calm. On the calm that forecasters did not promise, saying that a real hurricane is approaching the coast. Donghyuck, honestly, didn't know what he was expecting from Mark. Even if they had been friends for many, many years, and Mark had known about his strangeness all those years, Donghyuck couldn't imagine any of the possible outcomes after those words.

— He believed that the friendship between us was so strong that it couldn’t crumble to dust just from careless touch.

— You seriously used the "you" statement against me, — Mark whispers as if there are no other thoughts in his head.

— So, do you … agree?

Donghyuck definitely would not want to hear his "no." That would bring him almost to the very beginning. Donghyuck went to the therapist every time only to ensure that in the future not to be afraid to touch him, Mark.

But Mark turned red, gasps out an awkward agreement.

At that moment, the doorbell rings again.

***

— Should I?…

This is the first time when Mark feels that awkward in Donghyuck's flat. Like for the first time. As if his spare clothes aren't in the closet in Donghyuck's room, and as if his spare toothbrush isn't in the bathroom. He stands there, afraid to make a move. And Donghyck, feeling the excitement and biting his lips, is ready to put the idea of a therapist aside right now. Just so Mark can be himself. Just as always, he would walk into his bedroom and turn on the console without even waiting for him, or pour tea for the two of them, knowing what dungeon the half-dried cookies are in.

— Let's go, — Donghyuck says instead.

He points to the bed with a look. Mark climbs onto the bed slowly, tucking his legs under him. He rests his hand on the mattress. And looks at him, standing a meter away from the bed.

— Are you sure?

Mark smiles habitually, and Donghyuck feels a rush of strength.

— I'm the one who has to ask, — Mark replies.

Donghyuck sits down next to him. As far as his wrong body allows. He himself wants to get closer. And that should make him happy - he's never felt this way about anyone else. Even if he can't get rid of the irrational fear of other people's touch, he can, even if not immediately, get rid of the fear of feeling Mark's touch. Unlikely he needs anything else. He'll be fine. He'll be satisfied with just the friend only.

— Don't be afraid, — says Donghyuck, — but I might hit if I panic.

Mark shrugs.

— That's a touch too, isn't it?

And he waits. Watching. Doesn't even move. Only watches as wars erupt inside Donghyuck. It's unclear from his faded gaze what or who is winning. His thin, pale fingers trembled and clenched the fabric of his home pants. Then he throws his head up, a faint flame of confidence twitching at the bottom of his eyes, and he moves closer. Closer than ever before. Of the two of them, it is definitely not Mark who has been diagnosed with a fear of touch, but of the two of them, it is Mark who is trying to move away. Simply because he was used to giving Donghyuck enough space so that he wouldn't suffocate in panicked fright.

Donghyuck looks at his hands. Then his own. And so on in a circle. Until Mark slowly lifts his hands and rests them on his knees with open palms.

In the silence, hear the thud of each heartbeat can be heard. The first wave tries to cover Donghyuck.

— It's okay, — he says to himself rather than to Mark. His voice trembles faintly.

And then he does it. Not particularly sharply, but Mark doesn't have time to follow. Only touches his fingertips. Only for a few seconds. Then, of course, Donghyuck runs off to another corner of the room. So stands there, trembling and breathing loudly. Mark keeps a close eye on his condition, knowing that the second shelf in the closet on the left contains sedatives.

He has seen seizures much, much scarier than this. It was not for nothing that Donghyuck chose him - Mark knows better than anyone what Donghyuck is thinking at such moments.

— It's okay, — he says Donghyucks words. — Do you feel the burn?

That's what Donghyuck called the feeling. A burn. Invisible, but perceptible. If the touch lasts longer than a few seconds, the skin begins to corrode with acid — though nothing really happens. It's at times like this that Donghyuck feels an acute desire to tear his own skin off, just so he doesn't have to feel it.

But that's from the touch of strangers. And this is Mark, and he burns Donghyuck in his own way.

He goes back, climbs onto the bed under Mark's watchful gaze.

— How far were you supposed to go? — he asks, and in every sound, you can hear the concern for his health. — You've already touched me, you're doing a great job...

— I'm gonna hug you, — he answers, desperation sounds in his voice, and he moves closer. Even closer than last time. — I think the first hug we've ever had would be a great way to thank you, Mark.

This time he needs a little less time to gather his wits. Mark doesn't notice when Donghyuck throws his hands up and covers his palms. He just watches Hyuck's face to see if there is any sticky fear or insecurity in his eyes. Mark wouldn't want Donghyuck to force himself to do something he didn't like over and over again. What makes him tremble uncontrollably, or makes his breathing go to hell.

— The guitar gives you calluses, — Donghyuck says quietly, examining the skin of his palms. Mark stares at the top of his redhead. Afraid to even twitch — Donghyuck's hands are soft and delicate, and Mark is overcome with a desire to know if Donghyuck's skin, unaware of touch, is like velvet everywhere.

— Is everything all right? — he asks, and Donghyuck throws his head up so sharply that their noses almost collide. And so they stand dangerously close to each other. "In dangerous proximity for Donghyuck", Mark wants to remind himself, but instead he realizes that he himself is just as afraid. Not of touch — something more. Something that could ruin their long friendship.

For many years’ love had blossomed brightly in his chest.

— Will you try, — he bites his lip as if he himself realizes how difficult it is, — to touch me?

While he removes his own hands from his warm palms. And even reaches back, as if escaping back into his comfortable cocoon. Mark confronts his gaze, and for the first time, he can read nothing at the bottom of his dark abyss.

Only guesses from his visibly trembling hands and shortness of noisy breath, that Donghyuck is not experiencing things the way he would have wanted to. Probably thought it would be easier. In the end, it didn't get a damn thing easier.

— Not hands, — he adds.

— Then what?

Donghyuck shrugs.

— Would you like to touch something else?

Mark eagerly scans his entire body. He would. And more than that. Donghyuck had trained his fear into Mark's ability to blunt that wild hunger, forgetting it for years to come. And now he's giving him freedom, and Mark — Mark wants to cover his body with his own once, to feel fully and make up for all those touches that haven't happened in so many years.

Instead, he touches his fingertips to the thin curve of his waist, hidden beneath the fabric of his stretched T-shirt.

— Bolder, — Donghyuck asks, and Mark, expecting an outburst of hysteria, freezes for a second. Everything about Donghyuk indicates that he is balancing on the brink of a panic attack, but there is so much confidence in his eyes that it is enough for him, and even for Mark, who's already touching in a much more tangible way, clutching his soft waist. And jerks his hand away when Donghyuck exhales noisily.

— I'm sorry, — he says startled. His own heart is pounding in his throat. Donghyuck lets his apology pass him by. He looks thoughtfully at Mark's hands. As if he can't believe anything himself. How many months it has taken him to get used to the mere thought of touching him — and now he's surprised to find himself overstepping his own constructed boundaries again and again with uncanny ease. — Is everything okay? Does it hurt?

— I.. - Donghyuck gasped, — I don't understand anything...

Mark, actually, neither. Especially when there is so little space left between him and Donghyuck that it begins to scare him. Donghyuck is about to snap, must break down in tears and screams, must either freeze or run away to another room and lock it. I

nstead, he runs his soft palms over Mark's forearms.

Another wave is rolling in. And it's much stronger. Donghyuck wants to get closer. Much closer than ever before. And this unbearable desire overrides fear. Donghyuck is hungry too, even if only for Mark's touches.

He touches his neck — Mark flinches, for Donghyuck's fingers are cold. He traces the sharp line of his chin as if he wanted to cut himself on the edges. Hesitantly touches his cheeks and cheekbones at first. Mark closes his eyes. His dark, long lashes flutter with light breathing. Donghyuck doesn't really realize that he will soon forget where he ends and Mark begins.

Tangled in his hair. It feels good. It feels so damn good. Mark gets a shiver. He understands everything before impatience shoots through Donghyuck — which is why he leans his head closer to his shoulder. In a way, allowing it.

And Donghyuck touches. Not with his fingers or hands — with his lips, dry and pale. Just smears on his lips, and Mark doesn't realize himself as he exhales hot air. Donghyuck is trembling just as much as he is. It's as if he's about to be hit by this wave that's hovering near the shore. But it doesn't. Donghyuck suppresses it with something. With what, though — it is not clear. But he kisses more tangibly. For lack of experience, he just presses. Mark doesn't know any more than he does, but he helps. Then his hands reach out to touch his waist, or his shoulders, or his neck, or to wrap his arms around his face as the most precious reward of his life.

Donghyuck runs away before Mark realized.

He just crawls to the edge of the bed. Looking as if Mark might push him off or hit him at any moment. Mark, of course, wouldn't. He would never do that to Donghyuck. Instead of pulling him away, he'd want to hug him, pull him closer, so that this distance would collapse between them so that there would never again be a void between their bodies. Mark crumple the bedspread in his hands.

— I'm sorry, — he breathed out. — Scared?

Donghyuck puts his fingers through the red hair, which has flared up in the light. And he pulls, pulls so hard that he squints in pain.

— Stop it, — Mark asks. He knows that with this pain, Donghyuck blocks out the other, deep one. — Are you all right?

Donghyuck chokes on air.

— Shall I give you a sedative? — Mark asks, ready to rush to the closet. — Donghyuck, can you hear me?... Is everything alright...?

How he wants to touch him, to make him look into his eyes, to hold him and absorb his pain. But Mark can only stare at his shivering body, waiting for Donghyuck to cross the line.

But he doesn't cross it.

— What's wrong? — desperately exhales Donghyuck and deliberately looks him in the eyes. — Why do I feel fear, but it is different? I'm not afraid that you'll touch me, I'm afraid that you won't. It's weird, isn't it? There's something wrong with me...

— Don't you feel the same way about me as you do about other people?

Donghyuck looks at his face. Then at the hands, that have covered the curves of his waist.

— When people touch me, I feel burns appear on my skin. But your burns are different. They are ruthless, but I want them to cover my whole body.

— Maybe that's the point. — Mark suggests. He still rests his hands on the bed. — You want me to touch you.

— I don't want you to do it just because I suffer from some stupid phobia.

— I've never, — Mark hesitates. Donghyuck's words make sense — after all, he could really think that Mark is only doing this because they are friends. Only because Donghyuck needs help. — Donghyuck, — he breathes out tiredly. — How have you not realized yet that it costs me a titanic effort to restrain myself...? Do you even realize that I've always wanted to touch you not as a friend...? 

—How would you like to do it?

In his eyes flashes an excitement unknown even to Mark.

— Try it, — Donghyuck continued. — I want you to touch me not as a friend, too.

Mark, in fact, has not learned to restrain himself at all.

Narrows the distance between them. Trying, just in case, to keep in mind where the damn sedatives are. And in the meantime forces Donghyuck around his neck. Looking into the eyes opposite — Donghyuck is not frightened. It's nothing now. He plays with the dark hair at the back of the neck while Mark breathes out into his lips, at the same time putting his wide palms around his thin waist:

— Scared? — he asks. Donghyuck's heart is beating so fast that Mark can hear every distinct beat.

— A little bit, — he admits. — My body reacts strangely to you. And it feels a lot like fear. The confused breathing, the fever, the mind leaking through my fingers... And the infernal fire in the places where your skin touches mine. Is that normal? Is that how all humans feel?

— Only with those, — Mark exhales, — whom they love.

And then he covers his lips with his.


	2. Chapter 2

— We’ve kissed.

Jeno pulls his eyes away from the game on his phone at full volume and looks straight at Mark. At the worried, shaking Mark in his chair, biting his own fingers.

— No, — Jeno says confidently.

— Yes, — Mark replies, not that confidently.

Jeno turns off the phone and leans closer — they are only a meter apart, and Mark feels his friend's soulful gaze with every cell of his body.

The bell above the door rings and Mark turns his head to look at the visitor-a guest behind the glass door adjusting his dark coat and opening his umbrella. The weather is disgusting, and not many people come into the cafe. Mark still hasn't put on his beige barista apron, though his shift started half an hour ago, and he sat with Jeno in relative silence for half an hour, until he decided to say those two simple words. Simple to anyone but him.

— You said he couldn't stand to be touched, — Jeno hums and takes a sip of dark, cold coffee.

Mark pulls the black hair at the top of his head and drops his head helplessly into his palms.

— Oh Gosh, if I understood anything, — he groans and looks outside through the wide window of the cafe. Dark leaden clouds are gathering over Seoul, trying to cover the city, and dazzling white lightning is flashing in the distance. They don't have to wait for visitors — the rare passersby don't even notice the bright sign at the door.

— I remember I tried to shake his hand to say hello, but he got scared and hid behind your back, — Jeno continued as if his every word didn't pierce Mark's skin with sharp needles. — Cutie... so how did it happen?

Mark crashes his back into the soft couch and throws his head back. How did it happen... fast, dazzling, like lightning flashing outside a window, and so dizzying that it knocked all thoughts out with one resounding slap.

— His therapist advised him to try touching someone since they can handle the thought of touching, — Mark says slowly, feeling his throat dry up from the words. — Donghyuck suggested the idea, and I couldn't say no. So we tested how far he could go.

— In-depth test, — Jeno replies sneeringly and catches Mark's sizzling look. — Don't tell me you haven't dreamed of this.

— I’ve dreamed, — his cheeks flare with heat. Mark tries not to imagine the softness of Donghyuck's skin in places where no one has ever touched. — But... I didn't think it would be like this. I didn't think it would ever make up his mind at all...but it did. And now I feel...still hungry.

Jeno slides him a slice of tiramisu, which he ordered with his coffee but didn't touched, absorbed by the exciting game.

— Here, eat.

— Jeno, — he said exasperatedly, shaking his head and pushing the plate away. — You can't understand me.

— I thought you were a good friend for Donghyuck, — Jeno says gravely, looking at his face over his glasses. — In the sense that you don't like it when people give touches to you, and you don't give it much to others. Donghyuck is most comfortable with you... and it turns out that you, of all his friends, are the one who wants to touch him the most.

— You like to make me feel guilty!

— But look how red you are, — Jeno laughed, and Mark touched his cold hands to his neck and cheeks, trying to put out the fire that flared under his skin. — There's only one thing I worry about: how did you two unbearably in love idiots get to the point of kissing?

Mark doesn't know. He only remembers how Donghyuck wanted to hug him, how his hands rested on his shoulders, how his face was as close as it had ever been before, and how his fresh, shallow breathing tickled him to goosebumps. And then it was as if... as if they were drawn by gravity. They couldn't fight that force. Donghyuck forgot that he needed to be afraid. His fingers shook as he gripped the clothes on Mark. But he kissed insistently. Ineptly, but diligently.

— He wanted to hug me, — Mark says. — At first, he only tried, briefly, and then he got scared. And I told him I was actually having trouble holding myself back... and then he asked me to touch him not as a friend. So I... touched him.

— Touched him by lips.

A small pillow from the couch flies at Jeno, which he deftly catches with his face.

— It wasn't for long, — Mark goes on, letting a disgruntled squeak past his ears. — Donghyuck then fainted. 

Jeno flashes his eyelashes in surprise.

— I didn't know you were such a master, — he exhales. — Wanna kiss?

The second pillow is sent flying, but Jeno grabs it with his hands.

— Fool, — Mark says annoyedly. — It's very hard for Donghyuck to fight his own fear, and if he's stressed for a long time, he'll faint. I sedated him, waited for him to wake up, and then left.

— And what next?

Mark raises and drops his shoulders at the same time as an incoming thunderstorm rips the sky with a lightning bolt.

— We talk like before, send each other memes. But we haven't seen each other since that day — I'm always at work, Donghyuck is busy with his studies... It's just the same as usual.

— When does he have a met with a psychotherapist?

— Today, — Mark answers immediately, without hesitation, and continues, amazed at how much he knows about Donghyuck's life. — It should be over in a few minutes. He asked me to make him some coffee beforehand, — he says thoughtfully, glancing over his shoulder at the coffee machine, which no one has touched since Mark started his shift.

Jeno whistles.

— So someone's going to get something today?

Mark has no more pillows, so he reaches across the table with his bare hands for Jeno's thin and pale neck.

The moment the bell on the door rings.

Whoever the visitor is, he should hear a hoarse and wrenching:

— I didn't mean it! — The sound echoed through the empty hall of the cafe.

— Wow, boys, what princess are you that bravely fighting for?

Mark is the first to raise his head. A voice, soft, gentle, more like light fluff, he recognizes among a thousand other voices. Only Donghyuck can speak that sweetly when tries to hold back a tinkling laugh — which will sound more like the babble of wild grasses.

— Jeno can't keep his mouth shut, — Mark says reproachfully, looking into his friend's eyes. — And he's about to leave, he says strictly and gets to the feet. — Isn't you, Jeno?

Only then he looks at Donghyuck. Donghyuck was wet to the skin — his jeans jacket was darkened by the amount of water, and cool droplets of water were dripping from his hair. It was raining outside the window, and Jeno looked at the weather with distrust in his eyes.

— I don't wanna go there, — he says.

— But you're going anyway, — Mark insists and hides in the back room.

— What if I get wet?!

Mark walks out into the empty hall and turns off the lights — there will be no visitors today, except for Donghyuck, and the wide windows illuminate part of the space — just enough to keep from spilling coffee on himself. He holds out a terry towel to Donghyuck, and their fingers touch for a second.  
It was more like lightning, shooting through the sky, and Mark had never before felt such a keen desire to play with the high-voltage electricity that had passed through his body.

— If you get wet, — Mark says, looking at Jeno at the door, — you have showers at home.

Jeno folds his arms across his chest.

— And why I feel excluded...

He grumbles as he pulls the black coat over his shoulders. Something like, "Rainbow friends stick together, and I get kicked out," and "Nana will be upset if he finds out I'm sick — who's going to throw him presents at games?".

— Bye.

— Wait...

Donghyuck calls him uncertainly, and Jeno turns around. He raises an eyebrow. Mark, not knowing what Donghyuck wants to say — and faintly guessing what he wants to do - holds the breath anxiously.  
But he doesn't dare. He fights with himself. He frowns and bites his lip. He weakly offers his hand, but still can't make it to the end. Then, dropping his shoulders, he breathes out.

— Bye.

— You're doing great, Donghyuck, — Jeno says and winks. — Practice a little more.

Mark and Donghyuck follow him until a thick veil of rain hides his broad back.

— You're here sooner than I thought, — Mark lets out an exhale when silence fills every corner of the café, and steps behind the bar. He feels Donghyuck's attentive gaze on his back. — I didn't have time to make you a coffee.

— It's ok, — Donghyuck answers softly, and his voice sounds so close that Mark involuntarily flinches. — The meeting went faster than I thought it would.

— Was there... anything new today?

Mark draws a leaf pattern in the cup, adds vanilla syrup, and places the hot coffee in front of Donghyuck. A towel lies on his shoulders, and cold droplets roll down his thin neck and soak into the fabric. Donghyuck shivers and, Mark has many thoughts about how he might be warmed.  
He hadn't noticed it in himself before.

He used to try not to notice it in himself.

— Would you like some cake? Or some bakes? — he asks while cleans up the cup and plate after Jeno.

— At today's meeting, we just talked, — Donghyuck hums and looks at the display case. — Can I have a bar of chocolate?

— With nuts, coconut, or raisins?

What Mark doesn't notice is that he carefully avoids looking Donghyuck in the eye.

He tried not to think about the fact that that day might have ruined their long friendship.

— Coconut, — Donghyuck's voice sounds with a smile. — You like coconut.

For years Mark had trained himself to be obedient to Donghyuck's fears, and now he could not control his own beating heart. Especially when he put a bar of chocolate in front of Donghyuck and look into his eyes for the first time without averting his glance. They are bright, like the coffee in his cup, and at the pupil itself, they darken to the color of the bitter chocolate he dislikes so much.

Confidence rises to his throat. Mark can tell him that he loves him, that he's ready to help Donghyuck deal with his phobia, he'll do the impossible for him, he'll always be there for him, he'll come running at the first call and comfort him, he won't leave, he'll learn to hold himself back again, he won't hurt Donghyuck, he'll never make him cry.

But instead, he points to his own eye and says softly:

— Your eyelash fell off.

He doesn't have the words to explain this simple truth to Donghyuck.

— Did you want to touch Jeno to say goodbye? — he asks the first thing that comes to mind.

There are no visitors in the hall, the lights are off, and the heavy clouds come over the city in a high and dark wave. In the semi-darkness, Mark watches Donghyuck's face, and he hears the soft pounding of the downpour on the wide windows at the edge of his ear.

At such moments, the purest feelings are born in the chest.

— I overestimated myself, — Donghyuck grinned. — I thought I could... it didn't happen in the end.

They diligently avoid the most important question, as if it doesn't exist, but it does, it burns them from inside and on the tongue in simple words, but to let it out, you have to give a lot of effort.

— Shall I take the towel?

— Yes, of course, — Donghyuck removes the cloth from his shoulders and holds it out to Mark.

If they do touch, it's no longer an accident. Mark stands in the back room longer because of it. Leaning his head against the wooden door. Feeling his fingers burn from the ruthless burns that Donghyuck leaves. It's impossible to stand. It makes him want to touch him so badly now, more than he ever has before. Mark is actually weak. Once he's been given his fill of this, he's now an addict, like a heroin addict.

As he walks out into the hall, Donghyuck stares into his phone and bites down on his chocolate.

And licks his lips.

Mark keeps his eyes on this one for longer.

— Are you working late again tonight? — Donghyuck asks, still not looking up.

— Yes, — Mark wheezes, stepping closer. He leans against the bar across from Donghyuck and notices with surprise that Donghyuck doesn't even twitch from the proximity. He just spins around in his high chair and flips through his newsfeed.

He seems calm, but in the silence, Mark hears the humming beat of his heart.

Mark has spent years adjusting to him. Learned to keep his hands off him when the urge to touch his thin face, or his sharp chin, or his golden-red curls, or his thin fingers, or his cheeks, or to brush off that damn eyelash every time it fell off, was unbearable. Figured out the line he couldn't go over — and always, every damn day, balanced on the edge.

Donghyuck hands him chocolate.

— My treat, — he says. — You look tired. I can stay with you if you're bored.

Mark shakes his head gently.

— You have to wake up early to get to the university tomorrow.

— It's all right, — Donghyuck denies and turns off his phone. His pupils narrow briefly, but the next second they dilate so much that his iris looks like a thin gold ring. — Let's talk about something fun,— he giggles quietly. — Like, why did you and Jeno grapple at each other.

When a thunderstorm coming crashing down, shaking the glass in the windows, Donghyuck shudders and turns his head toward the exit.

— You know, he likes to jest on me.

Donghyuck smiles sweetly, and his breath smells like chocolate.

— My Mark is being bullied by big Jeno again, — he laughs and breaks the sweetness before sending a piece into his mouth.

Mark tilts his head to his shoulder.

— Yes, — he breathes out quietly. — Your Mark...

And reaches forward, crossing all his own borders, through which he didn't know the way. Breaking down the walls that, in the distant past, Donghyuck had built around himself — and which Mark had once passed through without resistance.

— Can I try? — he asks, looking at the plump cherry lips.

Donghyuck freezes to a shuddering burning breath, and Mark hopes he has a sedative in his bag.  
Mark runs his tongue over Donghyuck's slightly open lips to try it out — and catches his noisy exhale. He really hopes that Donghyuck won't pull away, won't push him away, won't run out the door in the pouring rain. But he doesn't respond, either, falling into a stupor, and Mark has to press his thumb to his chin, making him open his mouth.

— Scared? — he asks. Donghyuck is shaking, and hardly from the cold.

— N-no, — he exhales brokenly. And hastily adds. — It depends on what you mean.

— My touches, — replies Mark.

"My love", he wants to say but doesn't dare.

— Definitely not, — he pulls away, breaks the chocolate, and puts it in his mouth again. Then he reaches for Mark's lips. 

Mark feels everything inside explode with bright fireworks — or lightning flashing outside the window. Donghyuck is sweet — sweeter than chocolate — and soft enough that Mark has to pinch himself to avoid frightening him with his touch. But he gently touches his hair, his cheekbone, his thin, pale neck, and licks every millimeter, taut and slow, and Donghyuck trembles and squirms in his hands.

He moans, loud and uncontrollable when Mark bites and pulls back his lip, and pulls away sharply, pressing a palm to his mouth with shaky, knotty fingers.

— I'm sorry, — he says, breathing loudly and often. — It's just... so good.

His red plump lips glisten with saliva.

Mark had never heard Donghyuck's voice like that before — pitiful but begging as if Donghyuck wanted something, but that unattainable pleasure was painful to him.

— And I think I'm going to faint again, — he adds, smiling.

— Breath, — Mark asks. — I'm going to turn everything off here.

He turns around and bursts into heat, remembering every moment. His fingers tremble while he tries to turn off the electrical devices and cover the dried baked goods. Donghyuck takes longer to come to his senses, holding his jeans coat against his heart. His lips are soft, his skin is velvet, and Mark catches himself wishing he could go farther, much farther. To find out if every touch makes Donghyuck shiver uncontrollably and every light bite makes him moan loudly.

Before, Mark couldn't even hope for a simple handshake, but now he wants what he dared not even dream of.

— At the meeting we talked about our relationship with you, Mark.

Donghyuck's voice is lost in the noise of thunder.

— And, — Mark turns around, — what did you say to him?

Donghyuck doesn't look him in the eye — just at his fingers digging into the softness of the chair.

— He was curious about why I reacted so relatively calmly to you and your touch. And I told him that we are friends for a long time... always together... supporting each other in everything... — He bit his lip, which Mark had been biting before. — I said that your touch also burned me to a scab... but I... when you touch me... I want to burn fully. It's a very pleasant flame. It's like it's not just on my skin, but deep inside. And then the psychologist told me that I...

Donghyuck shuddered in a major way — the thunder made the windows of the café shake.

— That I probably... — He furrowed his brow, and Mark habitually suppressed the urge to touch him, to run his thumb over his skin and smooth out the roughness. — That I probably want you so badly that I forget about the fear of touch.

Lightning lights up the room drowning in darkness for a second.

Mark forgets everything in the world.

Even the fact that humans need oxygen.

— Wait, — he says, but breaks off into a cough. Donghyuck's cheeks are red, burning with a fire worse than the burns he left on Mark's body. — You... like my touches... kisses...

— The psychologist recommended going further.

If Mark had had a cup or plate in his hand, he would surely have dropped it. Instead, he drops his jaw. Donghyuck shrugs his shoulders.

— I didn't ask what it meant.

— This is the first time I've ever seen anyone's therapy consist of having sex with someone, — he mutters to the side and sees Donghyuck shrink all over himself. — Sorry.

— Would you... — he whispers, staring at the smooth surface of the bar. — Would you like to...? Try...

Amazingly, Mark doesn't drop his own body. He clutches with trembling fingers at the counter behind him and considers Donghyuck's confused, heated face. To try...he offered to try. The same Donghyuck who, as a child, got stuck in a swing and cried loudly while Mark looked for any way to get him out. The same Donghyuck that Mark's sister used to test all her cosmetics on. The same Donghyuck who broke his arm just to avoid writing a test.

The same Donghyuck who had shut himself off from everyone since high school, not even allowing himself to be approached, and sobbed every time someone accidentally touched him.

It was the same Donghyuck who was right now suggesting that they go beyond the usual limits of friendship. 

And Mark must say no. He has to say no to him. Mark can't live without Donghyuck. Neither can Donghyuck without him. They shouldn't go that far. It was all wrong from the beginning. From the beginning, when Mark got what he wanted, he should have stopped, only to not wait for another dose, only to not hope for more.

But Mark doesn't say.

Instead, he smiles softly:

— You shouldn't think I have the power to refuse you.

The first golden ray of sunlight cuts through the heavy leaden clouds.

The storm is over.


	3. Chapter 3

— You better not have left him with Nana, — Jeno says, shaking his head in Mark's direction. The loud music beating against the closed kitchen door still makes them raise their voices. — Nana is a tactile maniac, in case you haven't noticed.

The kitchen was the only place no one went, and if they did, it was only to throw an empty beer bottle into a big black bag. The cackling of the crowd came more from the living room and the stairs leading up to the second floor. Mark got tired of the noise and brazenly ran off, trying to bring Donghyuck with him, but he wouldn't go, so Mark spent his time alone, sitting on a broad bollard in the farthest corner —if anyone came in, he was sure to see him.

But only Jeno came in, throwing a second empty bottle into a garbage bag.

Mark only shrugs his shoulders at his words.

\- Donghyuck said he wanted to try to touch other people as well. If something goes wrong, he'll just come here. But, as you can see, he doesn't come, so it's okay.

— I'm still surprised he came to the party at all.

Dongyuck got invitations on an equal footing with the others. Sometimes it was hard even to think of a closed room with a pulsating crowd of people inside. Everyone is touching each other and not everyone notices. Donghyuck compared it to a fire in a room from which it is impossible to get out.

And now he was sitting where the ashes would soon be.

— You seem to be a good effect on him, — Jeno says. He sets the third bottle on the edge of the table and hits the top of the bottle with all the dope, and the iron cap, gleaming in the dark, falls to the dirt floor with a clinking sound. — He tried to say goodbye to me that day in the cafe, and then he came here... A Hero, no less.

He takes a big sip, and Mark doesn't find a better moment to whisper:

— He offered me to sleep with him.

Jeno chokes on his drink so hard that pale golden drops spray the table in front of them. He coughs, clutching the edge of the dark sweatshirt he's wearing to his mouth, and bends in half, the bottle falling from his hands, shattering into tiny pieces.

— You can't, — Jeno wheezed through a bout of coughing, — talk about that when someone is drinking beer!

— Sorry, — Mark slides off a high stool and just throws a random rag on the floor. — It just worries me very much. I didn't know how to say this, and that's why...

— That's why you decided to kill me.

Both watch the alcohol soak into the rag. Only then Jeno gets on the stool.

— Okay, the fact that you kissed was expected, — Mark tries to stop him, but Jeno puts his hand out. — It was going to happen sooner or later, I'm sure. If he hadn't kissed you, you would have kissed him. It just would have ruined your friendship in that case. But… sex ...I couldn't imagine it in even the boldest thought.

— You don't have to imagine it, you pervert.

— You're so dull, — he grumbles to the side and turns on the cooker hood. A lighter and a cigarette appears in his hands. The fire flashes in the half-darkness, casting a faint light on Jeno's pale face, and immediately disappears. — When I first thought that one of you would definitely give up and confess love to the other, I assumed that you would want to kiss Donghyuck, and he would even let you do it, though he wouldn't like it... after all, a phobia is stronger than love. But I never thought that he... he...

— I didn't think either.

Jeno noisily inhales and breathes out a white smoke through his nose.

— Should I ask questions or did you just say that to make me choke and die?

Mark shrugs his shoulders uncertainly. Jeno gazes intently into his seemingly calm face, but inside, Mark flares up the same fire that Donghyuck once spoke of.

— Then just... how? — Jeno throws up his hands, and the ashes fall on his jeans.

— Remember that day when you came to the cafe and there was a thunderstorm outside? Then Donghyuck came and tried to touch you?

— Fuck, no way, — Jeno whispers, and even in the dark, you can see his eyes widen in shock. — That was two weeks ago... So are you already...?

— No! — Mark shouts out sharply. — He just... — his cheeks are flushing with heat. — He just offered, and I... said something like I couldn't say no, and... that was it, the subject was over. We never came back to it during that time.

The cigarette in Jeno's thin fingers trembles a bit — Jeno still doesn't draw nicotine into his lungs, and so the silvery ash dries out and falls on his jeans. He opens his mouth, but Mark isn't sure if he wants to say anything.

— It's like the fact in kind of "Scientists accidentally bred a chicken with a dinosaur face", — Jeno quietly says. — You can't accidentally breed a chicken with a dinosaur face, and you also can't accidentally offer your friend to have sex. It was okay when you were touching each other. It's okay if one of you released the brakes or the confidence was born in someone's chest, and you had kissed, but this…

— Are you judging me?

Their attention was drawn to a door that slammed into the opposite wall with a loud thud. In the rectangle of light, all Mark could make out was an areola of pink hair and a white night-town silhouette on a black sweatshirt. Jeno was wearing one just like it.

Jaemin met Mark's eyes.

— Have you seen Donghyuck? — he asks, looking in every corner of the small kitchen and stopping at the damp rag on the tiled floor.

Mark stretches like a string and squares his shoulders.

— Where is he? — his voice is filling with steel. When it came to Donghyuck — especially Donghyuck's safety — Mark couldn't hold himself back. For Donghyuck, this house and this party were like stepping dangerously into the cage of a wild beast ready to tear him to pieces.

— He left about ten minutes ago to bring a drink, but he hasn't come back, — he tries to make excuses, putting his hands out. — Please, don't hit me, Mark, piss on me, but don't hit!

Under the soles of his boots, the green glass of the bottle crunched, scattered all over the floor.

— I'm gonna go find him, — Mark says.

— First of all, — Jeno, sitting on the high stool behind him, interrupts loudly. — Promise me that you'll finally talk to each other about your relationship, because you do everything like a dumb couple in love, but you're still not a dumb couple in love.

— Promise you, — he mutters to the side as he circles around a not-moving Nana.

— And don't you dare fuck him before that! — hits his back, and Mark, before he rushes off in looking for Donghyuck. 

He is not in the living room — there was a smell of sweaty bodies and the odor of vomit. Nor is he in the narrow corridors — Mark is afraid to see Donghyuck wedged between someone, approaching the ground in an attempt to calm his frantic heartbeat. People's faces blend into one palette. Someone spills cherry beer on impact, someone shoves to the side, and it's not Donghyuck, not his golden head flashing before his eyes. hears Jaemin pull a lingering "What?" in a subtle, high-pitched voice.

He runs out to the second-floor balcony, trying to find his frail body at least near the pool — but he doesn't find anything familiar there either. If Donghyuck had gone home, he would have dropped by the kitchen, or at the very least texted — but Mark's phone, which only responds to Donghyuck, was treacherously silent.

He rushes into the first room he can find and tries to call his friend until his ears are touched by the sound of a girl's quiet moans.

— I'm sorry, — he beeps, and he's back in the corridor. Donghyuck doesn't answer any of the calls. The chances of finding him in the crowd are nil.

He bangs on the wooden door of one of the bathrooms and listens to what's going on inside. The handle doesn't budge. Someone is definitely in there. The banging becomes more crushing — the people in the corridor turn around, some shouting swear words, some asking to leave.

But the lock in the door clicks.

Mark sees a thin streak of Donghyuck's face.

— Why are you here? — Mark exhales. Mark, whose heart is beating so hard it blocks out the beat of the music. Donghyuck opens the door wide, and Mark sees his whole face.

His eyes are red as if he had been crying recently.

Mark storms into the bathroom, pushing Donghyuck back against the opposite wall, and locks them in. The music no longer reaches the room. The whole party is as far away as it can ever be if it is still encircling from all sides.

— I'm sorry, you was worried about me, and I... — He sniffs his nose and turns away. He doesn't realize that Mark sees his full of pain face in the reflection of the mirror.

— What happened?

Mark had to ask the question softly and gently. To wrap him in care, to give with his voice as much love as he has inside, and even to touch, carefully and lightly, until Donghyuck would allow himself to be pulled closer to him. But it just didn't have the warm feelings it was supposed to give Donghyuck. There was only steel in his voice and a chilling coldness in his eyes.

— Who did this to you?

He reaches out his hand, already used to touching Donghyuck, but Donghyuck steps aside as if from an open fire. What he had achieved, thanks to Mark, was destroyed in an instant, bringing him back to his starting point, and Mark sure it was caused by someone. Someone who had once been that starting point.

— Now it would be silly to say that you can trust me, but, Donghyuck, you really can trust me.

— I know! — He answers and climbs onto the washing machine. He holds on to the edges with his hands. Mark backs away as far as he can in the small bathroom. From now on, he's afraid to even balance on the lines of the boundaries that Donghyuck has built for him alone. — It's just... I've never talked about it... You've never asked... It's as hard to experience now as it's ever been before, and I'm afraid I'll feel... fear... stronger again.

His fingers are shaking.

— Where are your sedatives?

— I already took it, — he says, gulping loudly. — Right after I locked in the bathroom...

His voice trembles. Tears burn his reddened cheeks, and Mark feels an obligation to touch the velvet skin and wipe away the wetness. But he's afraid. Before, Donghyuck could control himself; now it is better not to disturb his delicate balance.

– You probably don't know this, but when you and I were separated in middle school, — he whispers every heavy word, — I didn't end up in the best class. Remember when my skin was a little darker than it is now? The kids saw that as a difference... and any difference is a flaw.

Mark is afraid to even breathe — he is left with only crumbs of air that haven't been taken away by the Donghyuck, who has built new walls around him.

— They had been bullying me, — he says with a nod of his head. And he's still looking down at the floor. — They said I looked like something burnt. When they jokingly touched me, they had to jerk their hands back as if they were in pain and pretending to be burned...

— But your skin has the sweetest shade, — Mark wheezes. Donghyuck smiles through the tears, but he still doesn't raise his head.

— I was afraid that it was real and that they really hurt when they had to touch me... I didn't want to hurt them... So I... shut down. I thought that if people didn't touch me, they wouldn't realize that my skin was more like a red-hot stove. And a little later everything changed — instead, it was me who getting burned every time I made careless physical contact.

— Why didn't you tell me about it before?

Donghyuck frowns.

— I think I didn't want to hear you admit that my touching burned you too, that you just took it bravely because we were friends... I don't remember. Maybe I didn't want you to get into my problems — I mean, I felt so grown up when I went to middle school that it was heady.

They look into each other's eyes. Donghyuck is shifty, frightened, with his head in his shoulders. Mark looks through.

— And what happened tonight?

Donghyuck looks away.

— I met with one of the main bullies, — and fidgeted on the surface of the washing machine. — I bumped into him accidentally. He is studying at the same university as me, just in a different building. He got to the party like everyone else... He remembered making jokes about me. Probably thought it was an old grudge. And to prove that it was all in the past, he jokingly touched me and pretended to be burned. And he laughed, looking me in the face. I guess he was waiting for me to laugh with him. But I couldn't.  
Mark feels the acid burning his throat sharply. His mouth is filled with the lingering taste of iron, the way predators in the wild prepare for an unavoidable attack.

— What is his name and what does he look like?

Donghyuck freezes. Mark's voice is so quiet and calm. It's scary.

— No, — Donghyuck whispers in fright. — No, Mark, don't, it's okay, I took a sedative.

— It's not fucking okay, — he growls, making Donghyuck push himself into the tiled wall behind the washing machine. — All they did was bully you all through middle school, and your life is broken. Remember what you wanted to be when you were younger?

— Surgeon, — he answers quietly.

— And what are you now?

Donghyuck takes a little longer to react — he rubs his lower lip first.

— Programmer.

— Surgery involves touching people, — Mark reminds him, and slowly the white rage in his eyes subsides. — You've been racing with this dream since you first saw a documentary about the wonders of surgery as a kid, and you were racing even during high school when you already had a phobia. But when picking exams and going to university...you turned a blind eye to your dream. Because you knew it was impossible to work as a surgeon with haptophobia... He was the one who took away your future, and now you tell me it's okay?!

Donghyuck touches his neck with his thin fingers, and it looks more like defeat. Mark stiffens in his seat and watches his face. The middle school kids weren't right to claim that Donghyuck's skin can burn. But in Mark's case, it's quite different. Invisible scabs cover all his skin in the places where he runs his hands over it. The heat spreading in waves through Donghyuck's veins leaves burns. Mark doesn't want to step aside. He doesn't want to crawl into a corner, not to be touched as if by a red-hot iron.

Instead, he longs for Donghyuck to envelop him with his warmth.

— Mark, it's okay now, — he whispers, touching his face. When his fingers trace the contour of his lips, Mark forgets to breathe. — Even though I have a fear of touch, I'm on my way to getting rid of the fear. I can touch you — I don't need anything else, I guess. I sat comfortably through the whole party. I even accidentally touched Nana with my shoulder, and it wasn't until a few seconds later that I realized that I'd really forgotten about the burns.

— But in the moments when the past catches up with you, you want to escape.

Mark takes a step toward him, confident and damn stupid — after all, Donghyuck can cower in a corner. But he calmly maintains that distance. Mark doesn't dare cover his hips with his palms, so he rests his hands on the washing machine.

The way Donghyuck looks at each slow and judicious movement with thankful eyes, Mark is right — it's better not to touch him now. Donghyuck shakes his head, and his red curls fall over his face.

— It's just a ridiculous set of events. I'm not sure I'll meet him or anyone else again. Seoul is huge.

Mark doesn't answer — the next moment, he covers his eyes, feeling Donghyuck's fingers tangle in his black hair. Through the sticky silence between them come the deep beats of music and the muffled obscure conversations of the crowd. Donghyuck's breath is full of the smells of mint and alcohol.

— Have you calmed down? — he asks and runs his palm over his chest where his trembling heartbeats under the skin and bones. — Hey, it's beating fast... are you still mad about what that idiot did?

— Because of you, — Mark opens his eyes and fixes his gaze on Donghyuck's face. — If you haven't noticed, we're a bit...

And he looks down at his body resting between Donghyuck spread thighs.

— Actually, I should be asking you whether or not you've calmed down, — Mark reminds, while he tries to figure out from the light touches on his skin whether Donghyuck's fingers are shaking. — Are the pills working?

— Yes, — he breathes out near his ear. Donghyuck listens to himself a little longer. — I think so.

Mark chuckles softly and quietly.

— How can you not understand that, Donghyuck?

— Well, you know, I can't really be calm either, with you standing that close and... — He stops talking, and his gaze goes blank for a second. — Wow, I think my heart is going to boom...

— Should I step back?

But Donghyuck slips his hands over his shoulders. He pulls himself closer. His chest compressed from a bursting feeling. Mark feels his heartbeat as his own. And they match in a frantic rhythm. Donghyuk buries his nose in his neck, and Mark gets goosebumps.

— Remember I said that a hug would be my thanks to you? — Donghyuck murmurs, his breath burning his collarbones. — Thank you for everything, Mark... You've done so much for me that it's impossible to count. I will always owe you, thanks. Thank you for caring, and thank you for always being there for me. Thank you for understanding me and my phobia, and thank you for deciding to help. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have achieved anything…

— Why do I get the feeling that you want to leave me? — Mark laughs weakly, nervously.

— Because I want to ruin our friendship with three simple words.

Simple for anyone, Mark remembers. But not for them.

— Do you mind? — Donghyuck asks. His whole body trembles and his heart flutters with excitement. — It's just... you know what those words are. I can leave them out, and then we can go back to the way things were... Or I can say them, and...

— Say it.

Mark is surprised at how confident his own husky voice sounds in the silence.

Donghyuck takes his time. He crumples Mark's shirt in his fingers. Occasionally he touches the protruding cervical vertebrae and buries his fingers in the short hair at the back of his neck. Each of his moves makes something inside him curl up into one throbbing clod. Donghyuck is small and fragile, and he must be protected at all costs.

— Remember in primary school we were asked who we wanted to marry in the future? Who's the perfect girl for us... — Donghyuck smiles weakly. — You said that you wanted to marry me. And I answered that I would like to marry you...

Mark is visibly shaken by the warm memories. He had never separated from Donghyuck. Never betrayed, never put anyone above him. To him, only Donghyuck always came first. "Who is the perfect girl for you?" the teachers asked, and Mark invariably breathed out his friend's name. "What should be the perfect keeper of the hearth?" the teachers asked, and Mark spelled out all the traits inherent in Donghyuck. "If you knew the world was going to end tomorrow, who would you stay by your side until the last?" the teachers asked, and the children called out "Mom and Dad," and only Mark whispered quietly, "My best friend," knowing that Donghyuck, sitting at the back of the class, was spelling his name.

— Or remember when I broke my leg and couldn't play soccer in school competitions? You were sitting next to me in the stands. You were supposed to play, but you refused.

Mark was already in love with him for thirteen long years at that time.

— Do you remember the first time I told you I couldn't touch people? You stayed up all night on the Internet reading literature on the study of haptophobia... and then you helped me tell my parents. You've been learning not to touch me ever since.

And it took a few years to really learn.

— Even my parents often forgot that I am defective, but not you. And you accepted me that way for so long...

— I’ll accept you anyway.

His embrace becomes so tight that it cuts off the air supply.

— Even if things get worse in the future? - Donghyuck asks.

— Even if the world ends tomorrow and I have to choose the one person I would like to spend the last hours of my life with.

Donghyuck moves — runs his cold nose along the line of his neck, pulls away, looks straight into his eyes. Still caresses the bare bits of skin.

— I'd still marry you, Mark.

Every tremor of his body reverberates a hundredfold in the frozen Mark.

— Thank you, — Donghyuck whispers. Tears sparkle in his eyes. — Thank you for everything, — he has to bite his lip. — I love you.

Mark kisses the crystal tears that roll down his cheeks as Donghyuck beats in tears in his arms, sobbing loudly and not knowing how to stop his whole body from trembling.

— I love you, — Mark repeats as he strokes his red, like-fire hair. — I love you, — he whispers in his ear as he lets Donghyuck cry on his chest. — I love you so long and so much, — he says, hugging him as close to him as he's never done before.

Donghyuck needs time to come to his senses. The sound is the first to subside — it doesn't even clack in his throat. Slowly the shiver descends, but it remains in his fingertips. It takes a long time to get his breath back, a little longer still to get his heart rate back. Mark strokes his face, leaves a smudged kiss on his forehead, mooing a lullaby — Donghyuck is like a little baby in his arms.

— It must have been painful for you, — his husky, quiet voice said after a while. — It hurts to live with the idea that you can't touch the person you love...

— Love doesn't end without touches, — he kisses him on the top of his head. — Your mere presence in my life gives me pleasure. I can be terribly tired after a day at the cafe, but as soon as I see you, I feel like none of that matters. The only thing that matters is what you say, what bothers you, and what interests you. I'm ready to listen to you all day long.

— We're idiots, — Donghyuck exhaled. — I never really had any need to tell you about my feelings — I thought it was so obvious that I didn't need any explanation. I mean, we... we never acted like normal friends, you know? Like you and Jeno, for example. I mean, you have some kind of... limits. But with you and me... there are no limits. After the first kiss, I didn't think about it being disgusting and friends don't do that, no...I thought about it...wow, it happened, and it felt so right, like...like it was supposed to happen someday. Maybe a little earlier, but I got a phobia, so we got a little delayed... - he's silent for a few seconds. - Are you really rocking me like a baby right now, or am I just imagining it?

— I love you, — he buries her nose in his hair and breath in the subtle scent of his shampoo.

— Mark! Have mercy on my heart, it's not made of iron!

— Sorry, sorry, — he says, and then he stops abruptly. — You've been drinking, haven't you?

— Yeah, so what?

— Pills...

Donghyuck stares into his eyes, frowning his eyebrows, and for the first time, Mark allows himself to touch and smooth the hollow, feeling the silken skin under the pad of his finger.

— Oh, shit, — Donghyuck says. — I forgot to tell you that I lied to you. I didn't take the pills. I didn't even bring them with me.

— And you suppressed an imminent panic attack... by yourself?

They both understand what it means.

Donghyuck stepped onto the right path of ultimate healing.

When they leave the bathroom — only after making sure that Donghyuck is really okay — there are much fewer people in the corridors. As the music sounds quieter, the party comes to an end. Some are huddled against the wall and holding back their gagging, some are passed out lying on the floor. Mark helps Donghyuck over the fallen body on the stairs, holding him by the waist, one of the very few touches he's allowed this night.

— We should tell Jeno we're leaving, — Mark says in his ear. Donghyuck nods in agreement, and if he hadn't been standing so close, Mark wouldn't have felt the way he froze abruptly, as if he had turned into an indestructible stone.

— Donghyuck!

Mark turns his head. A tall guy is trying to make his way through the crowd. Mark doesn't know him, but he guesses how well Donghyuck knows him. He grips the sleeve of the T-shirt on Mark so hard that his nails leave scalding scratches even through the thin fabric.

— Who are you? — Mark asks, ready to attack. He doesn't notice as he carefully pushes Donghyuck behind his back.

— Oh, I'm sorry, are you his hyung? — asks the guy. — I'm a classmate of Donghayuck's. We went to high school, — and his gaze goes to Donghyuck's unreadable face. — I'm sorry if I did something...

— Go away, — Mark interrupts.

He freezes.

— What?

— I said go away! — Mark growls low, and the shudder in his voice pierces Donghyuck. He pulls him by the sleeve, whispers his name, and asks him to stay away.

But Mark can't.

He can't stay away now.

Mark hears Donghyuck's loud shriek before he realizes that his fist has crashed into the face of a guy he doesn't know.


	4. Chapter 4

The mirror is fogging up, so Mark has to run his palm wide over the moisture. He tries to see his own face in the muddy, uneven reflection, but it's like looking into a lake. Cold droplets run from his hair down the back of his neck, cooling his skin. Mark rests his hands on the sink and bends his head lower. Water rushes from his black curls and splashes against the tiles.

Donghyuck is sitting there. Waiting. He's probably been worried ever since he heard the shower shut off. Mark makes his heart languish somewhere near his throat. He doesn't get out of the bathroom for a few more minutes. He just...can't. They both know what this is coming to. Both know it's not going to be easy. Both have made arrangements, both have consented, both have taken risks.

But the lock on the door clicks. Silently Mark enters the room. Donghyuck is watching TV, sitting on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. He glances at Mark with a confused look and sharply pulls him aside. Mark realizes belatedly that the only clothes he is wearing are his house pants. His T-shirt was slung over his shoulder, and Mark was going to put it on as soon as he would have hung a damp towel on the balcony.

Awkward silence can be cut with a knife.

Mark tries to correct this when he comes out of the balcony already in his T-shirt. He cautiously sits down on the bed behind Donghyuck, closer to the headboard, and asks softly:

— And how long have you liked to watch cartoons, baby?

The cute nickname makes Donghyuck jump on his bed, but he doesn't turn his head.

— God, Mark, we can't do that... — he whispers, covering his face with his hands. Mark, sitting behind him, laughs out loud. — I was just switching channels and decided to watch this.

Mark is sure — if he asks Donghyuck for the plot of this colorful cartoon, Donghyuck won't answer anything. He stopped at funny and childish ones just to distract himself from thinking about the adult stuff. Donghyuck could show hundreds of times how brave and courageous he really was, but Mark could see with the naked eye how his fingers were shaking finely, like if they were electrocuted.

Mark doesn't want Donghyuck to be afraid of him.

— Is everything all right? — he asks and reaches for his back. A light touch makes him arch his back, and Donhghyuck exhales noisily into the semi-darkness of the room. — I'm sorry if...

— It's okay, — he answers quickly and turns around. The bright TV light darts across his face. Donghyuck's eyes are deep and dark — Mark can't see the irises of his eyes. — I'm a little nervous...

He crawls closer and sits on his knees at Mark's feet.

— Do you remember how we used to watch cartoons when we were kids when we were alone together? — he wheezed. — You'd hug me from behind, and I'd fall asleep in your arms.

— Do you want to sit like that now?  
— A bit, — he agrees with a slight nod of his head and slightly covered eyelashes. Mark spreads his arms out to his sides. Donghyuck is strong, but not strong enough — he reflects for a long time before he gently rolls over to his feet and snuggles back against his chest. In such a lively cocoon, he still seems like a small child. — Would you give me a hug?

The breath stops excitedly. Mark feels Donghyuck's rapid heartbeat beneath his fingers. Arms wrap around his torso, palms stroking his thin waist. Mark expects Donghyuck to cry or scream, unable to stand the burns all over his body, but Donghyuck only trembles in his arms and clutches the thin fabric of the home pants around Mark's knees.

— Is it okay? — he whispers low and sees the goosebumps on Donghyuck's neck.

— Mark, — he exhaled exhaustedly. — It's not because of fear of being touched.

— Sorry.

— You still can't get used to my body reacting to you like this? — he asks, turning his head slightly, and meets his eyes. — It's not the hug I'm afraid of, it's what comes next... — and he realizes how wrong it sounds. — In terms of... shit... I want to know what happens next, but I'm... really, really awkward...

Mark is afraid to even breathe at this closeness. He rests his forehead against his cervical vertebrae and closes his eyes as he feels Donghyuck play pensively with his long, pale fingers, and especially with his blood-broken knuckles. The dried dark maroon crust was the only reminder of the night Mark had stood up for Donghyuck and his whole damn past.

— Does it hurt? — Donghyuck whispers.

Mark mumble in denial.

And twitches when Donghyuck kisses his knuckles.

— Sometimes I get the feeling that you're the one who's afraid of being touched, Mark, — he said. There's a clear discontent in his voice. He shrugs softly — Mark feels it more than he sees it. — You've been so used to taboo for so many years... and I'm letting you now...

— I'm afraid of hurting you, — he exhales.

— You know how I knew it was your touches that stopped to afraid? — Mark shakes his head. — One day, I caught myself imagining you touching me. The dreams were on the edge of early childhood memories — my skin still remembered your hands, your fingers, and your hugs. It always felt good to me. I fantasized about how one day you would accidentally touch me and not immediately remember that I should be dying under those burns, and I would not immediately realize that I should be engulfed in fire, but the fire would not be. But there were fantasies bolder than that.

Mark runs his hands across his chest.

— Like what? — he asks and presses his cheek against his back.

— Like, — Donghyuck breathed deeply, — like the day we first kissed. I... I imagined that, too. At first, it was just a flash thought in my head, and I didn't really care about it... and then I looked at your face... especially your lips, and... I saw that kiss. And I thought, 'Wow, I want that so badly'... I saw your hands reaching out to my face, the way you leaned closer, and we're only inches apart... — Donghyuck laughed softly into his palm. — I wanted so badly to know what a kiss with you was really like, I couldn't hold myself in the day you sat on that bed, ready to help me deal with my phobia, while I tried to cross my boundaries... Did you ever... think that about me...?

Mark smiles and looks up.

— My fantasies are not as innocent as yours, — he said, and Donghyuck's breath hitched. — And they were something unrealizable.

— “Were”?

Mark strokes his belly over the thin fabric of his overstretched T-shirt. He strokes his dry lips along the line between his neck and collarbone, and Donghyuck bends and trembles in his hands. And he chokes on air noisily as Mark bites and pulls back on his earlobe.

— Oh, shit, — Donghyuck wheezed. — I think I know what you were thinking...

He strokes his lower tummy for a slow moment, just at the edge of his shirt — and then runs his hot palms under the fabric and reaches up to his chest, pulling him closer to him. Donghyuck lowers his head to his collarbones and traces every gentle movement, and squeezes Mark's thighs, resting his hands on them. His skin is silky, just as Mark thought it would be. It hadn't felt touch before, and now she was covered in goosebumps. Mark counts his ribs with his thin fingers and holds on longer to the place where his trembling heartbeats under the skin and bones.

— Sedatives? — he tries to ask, but Donghyuck jerks his head sharply.

— It's not fear — he whispers while Mark strokes his sunken belly.

But his heart is pounding so that Mark can hear its distinct thudding beats as if it wants to get out of the bone prison in which it has been imprisoned. Every light touch must seem unbearable to Donghyuck. It must burn and must leave a crust in its wake. It probably does — but not because of the long-standing fear once curdling in his head. Because of Mark. Because of his loving movements, because of his caring questions, because of the moments when he stops as if he were afraid of crossing the line beyond which the arousal would cloud their heads so much that it would be impossible not to snap.

— Can I take it off? — Mark whispers in his ear, and it takes a few seconds for Donghyuck to realize where his warm, dry palms are — his whole body feels like it's on fire. Donghyuck nods and lifts himself, holding onto his legs.

He does everything slowly. Letting Donghyuck feel every hot touch. It's like drinking red, thick wine in small sips — the intoxication comes in low waves. Carefully and extremely gently, he pulls his pants and underwear off — and the cold cool his heated skin. Without the warmth, Mark shakes noticeably.

— Don't forget to breathe, — Mark reminded him. He did almost nothing but caress, but even that seemed over limits to Donghyuck. — The shirt you're wearing covers up all the finer things. Did you leave everything on the nightstand?

— Yeah…

As if under a layer of water, can be heard the click of the lid. Donhghyuck just waits. The cold sheet is uncomfortably sticky to his skin, covered in a thin layer of sweat. Mark's breathing is ragged and convulsive, and all Donghyuck has to do is listen to his sounds. A few seconds pass before Mark slowly pulls his shirt to his chest. If Donghyuck hadn't been so drunk, he would certainly have stiffened or frozen, but instead, he leans his whole body against Mark's and covers his eyes. A kind of permission.

When he touches, cold because of the lube, Donghyuck throws his hips up and grabs his hand by the wrist abruptly. He adjusts slowly, bit by bit, while Mark breathes noisily over his ear. His palm glows in the faint light of the television. Donghyuck still holds it while smoothly, as if mocking himself, pushes into his hand. And it's completely different from what it was before. What was here alone, in this same room, on this same bed.

Now Mark takes one hand over his chest, pressing against him and cutting off the air as the other palm twists on his head, and Donghyuck stretches all out in a thin string. It's different. It's so damn different.

Donghyuck moves to the tempo with him. Donghyuck matches his rhythm. Donghyuck squeezes his palm on his chest and bites his lip until a sound burst from his thin throat.

It doesn't take long for him to breaks. Saying Mark's name and shrinking in his arms. Feeling the warmth spreading through his body in waves. And it's nicer than all those burns that burn the skin. Mark hugs Donghyuck while Donghyuck himself is convulsing.

— Oh God, — he wheezes, and wraps his fingers around Mark's — it's still wet and cold and covered with sticky lube. His chest drops and rises sharply.

— You did good, Donghyuck, — Mark whispers and kisses the wet hair at his temple. — Get some rest, — and only then reaches for his cherry lips.

It's a terrible rest if Mark is still taking the air away. If he runs his tongue over his lips, slipping inside and licking out every millimeter. What Donghyuck didn't know is that he is sensitive literally everywhere Mark touches him. It's as if his skin is full of nerve endings, and there are so many that it drives him crazy when Mark touches anywhere.  
Donghyuck doesn't know how to control himself — the moan that comes off his lips comes out loud. Mark was right — Donghyuck is ready to tremble and turn into sound just from his touch.

— Shall we go on? — he asks, and Donghyuck feels it's a taunt. He still hasn't come to his senses. — Put your leg over mine... Yes, that's it... And lie on my chest to make it comfier.

To make it comfier... what? Donghyuck had forgotten how to control his own body in minutes, and so he couldn't whisper or exhale the question. Mark held his thigh, digging his nails into the soft skin. His other hand slipped between his legs, and Donghyuck jerked, trying to escape his touch.

— I'm sorry, — he says quickly, surprised by Mark's gesture. — I didn't think you'd... I was getting ready...

— Just a little more, — Mark asks and kisses his neck, and a shiver runs through Donghyuck. — It's better for both of us.

He penetrates with two fingers at once, deep and abrupt, and Donghyuck arches his back. His hands, palms thrust into the bed, shake so badly that Donghyuck trembles visibly. He has never felt the burns inside him before. Before, they were only on the surface, on the fragile thin skin. And now Mark was sliding his fingers inside him, and Donghyuck was not burning on the outside, but deep inside.

He whimpered, reaching out with his whole being, instinctively adjusting to the pushes — each one causing his head to fall on Mark's chest, hitting the back of his head. Two fingers are no longer enough. He needs Mark. But he's afraid to hurt. Donghyuck is only staying on thanks to his hand that intercepts his chest and his own hand clutching the sheet. Because Donghyuck reaches for Mark with the other. Forcing him to freeze for seconds — the moment when Donghyuck penetrates in himself with him.

Together they move in him. Together they bump their knuckles, together they make deep pushes. Together they hear Donghyuck moan softly, arching his back, and together they feel him clench around their fingers. Together they stop this agony, breathing loudly together until Donhyuck rolls forward on trembling legs and arms and collapses his heavy body onto the cold sheet. He needs Mark. Right now.

— The soundproofing is... bad, — Donghyuck himself doesn't understand how he can pronounce such difficult words. — I'm loud... It's better this way...

He clutches the blanket in his fingers and regains his breath while he has the chance. Because he knows, Mark will take all the damn oxygen. Listens to him rustle the foil. Feels the quiet click of the lid makes his whole body go numb. Donghyuck does not immediately remember that he is opened up to Mark. That he can look at him greedily, even if little is visible in the pale light from the television.

And Mark kisses the back of his head. On the neck, on the vertebrae, on the shoulder. He clutches the blanket so tightly in his hands that Donghyuck feels it pull perilously taut beneath himself. Mark is hard and slippery, and he doesn't immediately drive into Donghyuck, who is ready to take him fully. teases. Runs between his buttocks. He's throbbing himself, trembling, breathing himself raggedly and loudly, breaking into quiet, chesty moans, but he's in no hurry. He holds himself amazingly well for a man who's got the forbidden fruit.

He penetrates very slowly. He himself realizes that it doesn't hurt Donghyuck, but he still takes his time. And it is only a moment later that Donghyuck realizes the reason. When he feels the tension. When Mark pulses already inside. When his fire floods in totally. Mark hits by his hips. Once, twice, and stiffens excitedly, clutching his arm around his thin waist.

Donghyuck needs to tell him it's okay. But all he can do is moan obscure words and throw back his head, rolling his eyes, and squeeze the sheet with his fingers until it crunches, and feel his heart beating convulsively in his throat. Donghyuck begins to hate the moment when there is not enough of Mark in him, so much so that it makes the tears burn his eyes. It's much nicer to feel and just know that Mark pierces through him and that he drowns so deeply as if he wants to get to every fiber of his being.

— Oh Gosh, what are you doing to me, — Donghyuck moans and groans, and Mark presses his bare chest against his back and kisses his temple, his cheeks, his chin until Donghyuck finds himself able to turn his head and feel his sweet kiss on his lips.

The whole world floats in front of his eyes. Mark breathes heat on his neck, resting his forehead against his shoulder, and moves in smooth curves, slowly picking up the fast pace. He has to snap at him. Donghyuck wrap his fingers around his and squeezes to a tugging pain, and he reaches out, presses his back against his chest, opens his mouth in a silent cry, and he doesn't know what he's asking for as he speaks:

– Higher...

Mark catches his plea.

— Deeper, — he whispers. — And a little... a little harder...

And when Mark bumps in him, all of Donghyuck is shot through, and he has to clamp a blanket between his teeth to suppress a scream. Something inside Mark bursts, traitorously taut, and he speeds up and pushes into him with frightening precision, causing Donghyuck to thrash about the bed and freak out and press his face into the blanket, hiding his loud moans.

Each precise thrust reverberates with sparks in his spine.

— Oh my God, — Donghyuck sobbed.

If his heart can take it, Donghyuck thinks, if his heart can take it, his body can hardly. He can no longer feel his legs or arms. The fingers clutching the blanket stiffen with pain. A familiar hot knot curls in his stomach. Mark growls low, presses his lips against his ear, and almost doesn't come out to push - only presses in, as if he wants to pierce through.

Belatedly, Donhyuck realizes that Mark sees his face in the reflection in the mirror of the closet across from the bed.

And Donghyuck catches his hungry gaze as he watches Mark smoothly bend and thrust into him, and lick the skin of his neck and leave long scratches, and something savage, primal, distant settles in his chest at the sight of such a view.

At one moment, Mark presses closer, almost laying on top of him — Donghyuck is short of air — and his hand slides at his iliac bone.

— Donghyuk, — Mark whispers hotly. — I'm about to...

He cuts in a few more times. And everything is amazingly perfect. Donghyuck rolls his eyes, feeling the current not leave his body, spreading under his skin in waves. Everything sparks in front of his eyes. Mark freezes and moans loudly, pressing his nose against his neck, still moving as he is crushed by the orgasm, shivering.

Donghyuck feels the darkness come over him dangerously.

****

— The therapist asked me to tell you to thank you so much, Mark.

Mark looks up. Donghyuck eats a coconut bar of chocolate, drinks coffee, and looks at his phone as if he hasn't said anything. Mark looks at the time — he has a few minutes left on his shift. It's late, and the sky outside the cafe window is full of gold. Only a few people stay in the room, and Donghyuck is the closest of them all — at the bar on a high stool.

— What for? — he asks as he unties the knot of the apron on his back.

— Today was my last meeting with him, — and Donghyuck raises his head, meeting Mark's gaze. — I was holding hands with Nana last week while we were looking at the rosehip bushes in the park, remember?

— Yeah, — Mark muttered. — I was jealous.

Donghyuck laughs softly and takes a sip of the scalding dark liquid.

— He said that if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have healed so quickly, — he whispers, hiding a soft smile behind the fragile white cup. — Thank you, Mark, — he reaches closer, and Mark, who has learned in a short time not to pull away, trying to give Donghyuck as much space as he needs, freezes in front of him. — From him and me. You've done a lot more for me than you think. You've given me a future…

— The future where you can touch people? — Mark laughs. — I'm really very jealous, Donghyuck.

He hums thoughtfully.

— I took my papers back from university, — he admits. — I'm going to be a surgeon.

Mark feels his throat clench with excitement. How his heart freezes as if it were frozen at the very peak of a roller coaster. How his fingers are shot through with a shiver. Donghyuck had done something Mark hadn't even dared to think about. And now this realization, the realization that Donghyuck had changed, Donghyuck is no longer afraid, Donghyuck was once again chasing his dream, was a realization that burned his cheeks with hot tears.  
Donghyuck worriedly — and without hesitation — reached out his hand to his face.

Mark too. He strokes the soft velvet cheek. Smile. He wipes that damn eyelash off Donghyuck's hot skin with his thumb.

— Thank you, — Mark whispered, and he felt a pain in his throat. But it was a pleasant pain, and his heart exploded with a bird's trill rather than the usual drumbeat. — Thank you, Donghyuck...


End file.
